


Winchesters Don't Wear Black, they Wear a Trench Coat

by wisepuma23



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel Angst, Destiel Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Season 7 AU, canon AU, dean wearing Cas' trench coat, it's my goddamn weakness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 02:13:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2795972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisepuma23/pseuds/wisepuma23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Cas died in the lake, Dean had been devastated and he didn’t have anything to remember him. Not even a photograph. Nothing but his worn trench coat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winchesters Don't Wear Black, they Wear a Trench Coat

**Author's Note:**

> So I’m gonna try my hand at writing daily drabbles, I don’t know if this is gonna flop or not. I’m hoping it won’t but I’m just gonna repeat that prompts have been open ever since I got my 50th follower. I hope you like this guys! (ask for my tumblr to leave prompts there!)

Dean never put much thought into wearing Cas’ trench coat, it just seemed weird to imagine it anywhere else. When Cas died in the lake, Dean had been devastated and he didn’t have anything to remember him. Not even a photograph. 

Nothing but his worn trench coat.

He ignored the niggling sense of wrongess as he sees it tucked away in a corner. Like the owner of it never shook his entire world the moment he walked into that barn. Like the trench coat never became a symbol of all the things he never said or wanted. Dean shuts out the thoughts out quickly and pulls out the gun he needs without a lingering look.

The next night, after a particularly bad hunt where he could have very easily died. Dean opens the trunk in the darkness of night, when he knows his brother is sleeping like a log in the motel room. He puts it on quietly, gasping as the familiar smell of ozone and other worldliness surrounded him like a warm embrace. The trench coat was mysteriously slightly bigger on his frame, it was weird since Dean thought it might fit better on him considering he was bigger.

Dean let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he wrapped the trench coat around him tighter, despite the warmness of the night air. He took a swig from the bottle of Jack Daniels, savoring the warmth as it coursed down his throat. It was a long while before he could bring himself to fold it carefully and gently tuck it back in it’s corner.

After that, he wears it more often. He wears whenever he needs to pose as an FBI investigator, the first time he did it, Sam was surprised but quickly soured into pity. After a few months, it wasn’t enough, he started to wear it everyday from sun up to sun down, until he eventually wore it 24/7. Sam never talked about him and for that, Dean was grateful.

The trench coat even saved his hide a few times when things got frisky. The belt loop was handy during a fight when he could strangle whatever monster they were dealing with, but it had less creative uses like keeping him warm and fending off the rain. However, how dirty it got, he never dared to throw it into the washing machine, he wanted to keep the smell of Cas with him as long as possible.

Finally, it was the eve of the six month mark of Castiel’s death and he was sitting at the bar in whatever hole in the wall he found. He drank slowly since he couldn’t bear to go back to Sam’s pitying face, he was almost sure that there was finally gonna be a talk. Dean was even more certain that he was say some things that shouldn’t be said, at least not until he was drop dead drunk.

Suddenly he felt a warm hand delicately laying on his shoulder, he turned to see a blonde haired woman with bright neon streaks of pink and blue. Her low hanging shirt was a message enough to understand her goal here.

"Hey there sugar, you looking for something to cheer you up?" the woman purred, her face twisted in something that was supposed to come off sexy but it fell flat. Her hand tugged a little roughly on Castiel’s coat as he tried to ignore her. 

"Hey! I’m talking to you, don’t you ignore me." the woman snarled in irritation, it seemed like she wasn’t used to things not going her way. Dean roughly pulled out of her grasp.

"Don’t touch me."

"What?" she said dumbly, instead of backing off she instead moves closer and leans slightly forward to reveal a freckle just slightly below her shirt.

"I said, don’t touch me." Dean repeats again, he turns to her slowly with the most dangerous look he can muster. The woman flinches before schooling her features into a pout and thankfully leaves him alone to wallow in his own sorrow. 

When Emmanuel shows up on their radar and he gives away the only artifact that he feels his entire heart is woven into it’s fabric. After that whole purgatory shit storm and Angels falling to Earth, Dean forgot about those lonely six months clutching a trench coat as he woke up every night with a hoarse voice from crying. Like a forgotten nightmare.

Until the dust finally settles, Angels are given back their feathery halos and Demons are left to their own devices in Hell, and everything is as it should be. Dean can’t help but stare openly at Cas lying next to him in bed, he couldn’t believe that after all these lonely years, someone loved him back.

"Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?" Castiel replied as he turned over on his side to meet Dean’s stare head on.

"Can I wear your trench coat?" Dean asked, quickly swallowing the ‘again’ in his throat. 

"Sure?" Cas answered with a confused furrow in his brow, he gestured to the trench coat laid carelessly on the back of a chair in their room in the bunker.

Dean shot up and put it on, the trench coat fitting just slightly loosely on him. His face beamed as that familiar scent of home comforted him even though Cas wasn’t an angel anymore, the tint of otherworldiness was still there.

"Dean, are you alright?" 

"Yeah Cas, I’m fine, it’s just…" Dean’s voice cracked as he tried to blink away tears, "You’re here, and today’s your three year anniversary of your second death, but you’re here.” 

"Dean." Castiel simply said, so many things underlying that single word.

"You’re here." Dean repeated softly as he hugged Cas tightly, both of them replaying events from their times together and even apart, the husbands slept like that, too wrapped in each other to notice anything else but.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments would be lovely!


End file.
